Of Mages and Demons
by Chaos Productions
Summary: When the demons came to the small village in Wales, the last things they expected to face were two descendants of Sparda himself. A different turn of events, a different intervention and a different salvation lead to a different Negi Springfield embarking on a journey to Mahora. Look out, teachers and students - this party's about to get crazy!


**Pre-Chapter A/N: Well, there's not exactly much to say, other than the confession that this plot-bunny has been chewing on my brainwaves for the past year or so. Other than that - hey, it's Devil May Cry and Negima. Does more really need to be said?**

**Also, a little warning: Negi Springfield, in this story, is rather... 'different'. Given his exposure to Dante and Nero, would you expect anything less? Also, seeing as this is my own little take on a 'series-reboot'-fic, expect a fair bit of AU-ness.**

**Onwards!**

* * *

**Of Mages and Demons  
Chapter 1**

Thinking back, the first thing Negi Springfield could remember about that day was fire. It was always there, in the back of his mind – images of buildings crumbling beneath blankets of raging flames, and columns of smoke towering up into the abyss of the night sky. Poetic, yes, almost _disturbingly_ so, but still a very apt description – one his mind had chosen and stuck with since he'd actually learned the words to describe it. He remembered the burning sensation the smoke left in his nostrils, the way his body bucked and wracked as he coughed, the way specks of ash stung his eyes and the way the screams reverberated through his skull.

That was the second thing Negi remembered whenever he dared to think back to that day. Screams, shrieks and sobs that escaped from quivering lips as life around him wilted away – snuffed by macabre weapons and claws and teeth and Heaven alone knows what else. Some of the people were lucky, he thought, a tad _too_ darkly to be considered normal for a young boy. Some of the people were just turned to stone – he couldn't, for the life of him, fathom whether that process was painful or not. If it was, however, it paled before the fate the others met. Negi remembered the sounds that plagued his nightmares – sounds of blades ripping and tearing and searing through flesh, carving through bone and muscle, sounds of arrows stopping fearful cries with loud _thwacks_, and sounds of maces crushing bone beneath their weight. _Those_ were the images that had burned themselves into his memory – half of the slaughtering grounds were covered in dark grey statues; the other half was covered in corpses. And the perpetrators…

They were the third thing Negi remembered. That night had marked his first official encounter with demons. Monsters, they were – demons of every kind had spawned, popping up out of nowhere and descending upon the villagers with brandished weapons and hellish shrieks and roars. The memory would always cause fear to bloom within him – some of the demons looked no different from the ones he'd seen depicted in books; humanoid, dark, horned and winged, with wicked claws and sharp teeth. The others… were different. Abominations Negi could never _dream_ of comprehending; shambling husks in dark robes carrying scythes and sickles, horrendous mannequins wielding serrated blades, multi-coloured lizards with maws large enough to swallow him whole – aberrations like those and many more comprised the nightmarish scores that stormed the village, either killing or petrifying anyone and anything in their path.

These three things comprised the bulk of Negi's memories from five years ago. The events before the massacre eluded him since that day. It would normally seem dark, that a ten-year-old boy has only such dark visions left from his past. There was, however, a silver lining to that dark, dark could – almost as silver as the hair of his saviours.

* * *

It all seemed so surreal. Negi half-sat, half-reclined back against a mound of snow as he stared at the scene before him, eyes wide and mouth agape, hardly registering the pain from the deep cut streaking across his arm. The burning village that had driven him to tears mere minutes ago now stood as a dazzling backdrop, the bright fires casting light into the makeshift arena formed by a haphazard, lopsided circle of demons. The moon somehow shone clean through the towers of smoke, casting away any semblance of darkness the dead of night should have brought. In the midst of the carnage, between the statues and corpses and raging demons, a dance was being performed that had the young boy mesmerized.

Two gigantic swords shone brilliantly in the moonlight, arcing around their wielders as they collided with weapons of steel and bone and leaving visible trails in the air – one red and misty, the other silver and… _fluid_, somehow. These swordsmen had appeared out of nowhere, Negi remembered in his stupor. Nekane's legs had just shattered and it seemed as though the demons would descend on him and his sister-figure. At the time, Negi had closed his eyes, ducked, and sobbed uncontrollably – until he heard the gunshots and the loud _clang_ of a sword being blocked.

These men, the ones who had saved his life without effort, were doing what every man capable of combat in the village could not. One by one, the demons fell – bisected, beheaded, impaled, launched skywards, pin-cushioned… The men were dispatching them with such ease it seemed as though the act of felling these monsters came as naturally as breathing to them. Their ranks were thinning at a downright _scary_ pace – what started as a force several hundred strong had been reduced to about… fifty? Forty? Negi couldn't pinpoint their numbers – they were dying far quicker than he could count them.

He saw them clearly for the first time when only a handful of demons were left. A flash of bright red drew his attention to the man closest to him. He was young, that much was certain, and he seemed to have a perpetual scowl on his face as he fought. A dark-blue, almost _black_ coat splayed around him, displaying the dark red trim inside, and his wild, silver hair danced as he moved. His right arm… Negi blanched when he saw it. It wasn't normal – it couldn't be. It seemed monstrous – a twisted visage of an arm comprised of dark red and bright blue, each shining finger tipped with a claw that seemed just as sharp as the blade he wielded. The man sneered as he swung his left arm overhead, bringing a giant sword almost as big as he was down on the skull of a reckless demon. It cleaved into it without a hint of resistance, and with one move, the man twisted the hilt, causing a loud revving sound as a tongue of red flared across the blade – which carved through the demon as though it were made of paper.

The second man acted next – Negi's eyes only barely followed his form as he leapt up into the air and spun, arms pointing downward. Before Negi could even comprehend what was happening, the young boy found himself staring at two large guns, one silver, and one black, and he winced as a cacophony of gunshots rang across the clearing. Muzzle flashes flared like strobe lights and the moment Negi finished blinking the spots from his sights, the demons' ranks were halved once more. The gunman landed casually, standing up to stare at the remaining monsters with an aloof, devil-may-care smirk. Despite the fact that his hair was also silver, he seemed to be the young swordsman's polar opposite. He was older – much older – and his coat was dyed a deep red, with several trimmings worked into the material, both western and… something else? The man holstered his handguns and held his hand out, palm open in an almost _bored_ fashion, just as a glint of steel signalled his sword descending from the sky. He caught it by the grip, despite the fact that it had been spinning wildly, and held it horizontally at his side, as though the weight of the titanic blade hardly fazed him. His smirk turned into a grin, almost as though he were _daring_ the remaining demons to attack.

The younger one had also ceased his attacks, and now stood with the tip of his ornate sword embedded into the frosty ground, his abnormal arm pulsating bright waves of blue light as he clenched his fist. The few demons that remained seemed to waver – they shifted their weight nervously, glancing at each other to see whether anyone else would be attacking and cautiously shuffling about in the snow.

"They almost look scared," the man in red chuckled as he hefted his sword onto his shoulder.

"They should be," his younger companion retorted, a disdainful sneer appearing on his face. "Any idea why they're so weak?"

"Who cares?" The man in red shrugged. "The leader cut and ran, and these toys are easy pickings. Easiest job I've had in weeks," he smirked again.

"This means our deal with that guy's off, right?" the younger one asked, looking over his shoulder – as though the two dozen demons surrounding him didn't faze him in the least. "These assholes are three days early."

"Dunno," the man in red said with a bored tone. "Maybe he'll pitch, maybe he won't. That doesn't matter now. Our job," he said, his smirk turning into a grin once more, "was to 'take care of the demons' – and I'm counting over twenty still standing."

"Heh. Our move?" the younger one asked, revving his sword up.

"Our move," the man in red nodded – and almost quicker than Negi's eyes could follow, they attacked.

Five demons fell before Negi could even wholly comprehend the situation.

The man in red practically _glided_ forwards, and his sword glowed ominously as streaks of crimson trailed in his wake. The blade ignited as it met its mark, and one unlucky demon flew upwards, cleaved cleanly in two as it turned to dust. The man's red coat splayed out behind him as he turned on his heel, performing a series of slashes and stabs so quick Negi could only follow the silver trails the blade left in the air.

Six more demons fell by the time the man steadied his blade.

The younger man's sword roared to life as he darted from demon to demon, laying waste to their numbers with a series of vicious strikes. His abnormal arm projected a larger, almost ghost-like spectre of itself – which promptly wrapped its fingers around the closest demon and slammed it into the ground with a loud _crack_. The spectre reared back again, in tandem with the young man's arm, and lashed out, pulling a seemingly shocked demon right onto the swordsman's readied blade.

Five more demons turned to ash.

In an instant, the two men were back where they started, practically back-to-back, aiming their guns at the remaining demons. Negi's hands shot to his ears as the firearms discharged, a series of rapid-fire shots and muzzle flashes from the man in red's guns complemented by what sounded like cannon fire from the younger swordsman's revolver. The demons around them shook and recoiled with each shot, some flailing about as they were pushed back and others dropping to the ground and turning to ash almost instantly. The flashes became too much for his eyes, and he closed them to protect against the brightness. The barrage of gunfire continued, and even with his hands on his ears Negi could hear the remaining demons scream as they were perforated with bullets. He wondered how long it would go on – how hardy could those demons be? And just _how many bullets_ were in those guns?!

Fortunately, to Negi's relief, the gunfire stopped, leaving only dead silence in its wake. The young mage tentatively opened his eyes, almost fearing to see the remains of the demons. To his great surprise – and immense relief – though, the two men were the only signs of life in the area. They were surrounded by small mounds of ash, and their guns were still smoking from the fight, but they were unharmed and… disappointed? Was that disappointment on their faces?

"That was boring," the man in red said as he holstered his guns.

His younger companion looked around the village with a look of apprehension on his face. "Think there were any survivors?" He asked, examining the stone statues that were once living people.

"Don't think so," the man in red responded as he turned his attention the corpses of those unfortunate enough to be caught by the other kinds of demons. "They're all either dead or stoned… Just like back in Paraguay."

"Dammit…" The younger one hissed. "We were too late."

"Cool it, Kid. The man's info was off – way off," the older one replied. "We're lucky we even managed to catch the ones who did this. Good thing we legged it when we saw the smoke." He turned away from the corpses and strode to where the younger man was inspecting the stone statues. "These ones are still alive," he said, intrigued. "Well, _some_ definition of alive. The stoning can be reversed."

"Think we're dealing with the same son of a bitch here?" The younger man asked, his eyes still fixed on the petrified humans.

"I guess. Can't be sure though," the man in red responded. "Lots of demons can stone people this way. We can ask our 'old friend' personally once we find him and kick his ass." An awkward silence followed the man in red's statement as they eyed the statues carefully.

"You know anyone who can reverse this?" The younger swordsman finally tore his gaze away from the stone forms. "Maybe Enzo can find someone."

"Maybe, maybe not," the man in red shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Kid. I'm a demon hunter, not some genius wizard." Something about the man's words made the younger one pause. "Best we can do now is look for survivors and wait for that jackass to show up," he said as he turned around.

"Wait up," the younger one stopped him. "I might have an idea that could-"

A loud _shing_ sounded behind Negi, cutting off his thoughts and drawing his attention away from the swordsmen. He spun on his heel, breath hitching, and a soft '_eep!_' escaped him when he saw a disgusting, almost skeletal thing in a black cloak and fedora hovering above Nekane, its crimson nails elongating and shortening as it looked at the prone girl with an expression that made Negi's legs tremble. The _thing_ suddenly pointed its nails downward, right at Nekane's chest, and time seemed to slow to a crawl from Negi's perspective. Snowflakes floated mid-fall and smoke twirled and twisted in place, neither rising nor falling, as the deadly nails started to extend, intent on ending the young woman's life. Negi's body reacted before his mind could – legs that felt like lead trudged forward, desperate to at least draw the fiend's attention away from Nekane. The monster's hollow eye socket seemed to zone in on Negi, and a grating rasp sounded across the silence, a mocking imitation of a dark chuckle, as the nails continued their descent.

Several things happened at once.

An explosion to be likened to cannon fire shattered the silence that had settled, and as time from Negi's perspective resumed its normal pace the cloaked monster before him uttered a shrill screech as its crimson nails shattered like glass and its shadowy cloak tore apart to reveal the floating, insectoid form beneath it. Like an enraged beast, the monster reared back before lunging at Negi, intent on sating its sudden rage with bloodshed as the scarlet claws on its other hand-like appendage glistened in the moonlight. A startled yelp was all that managed to escape the boy's throat as he stumbled and fell back, eyes wide, with one hand outstretched in a futile attempt to halt the monster's advance.

"Not so fast, buddy!"

Red bloomed before Negi as the sound of steel rending flesh led to a pained cry escaping the insect-like monster's throat. The young boy blinked, trembling like leaf in the wind, and found himself staring at the man in red's back. The insect struggled against the titanic blade now thrust clean through its tiny chest, and before Negi could even blink that same blade had been ripped out of the insect's chest at such a speed the tiny monster could do nothing but float helplessly for a second. Silver flashed in Negi's vision, and he followed the sword's arc as a vicious underhand-swing carved into the monster's chitinous shell and propelled it high up into the air. "You're up, Kid!" The man in red's voice reached Negi's ears, and just as the young boy looked up, he saw _it_ again.

That same phantom arm that had crushed countless monsters to dust and dragged many more of them to their death was rocketing towards the bug-like monster, its fingers curling cruelly, as if promising a crushing grip. The beast let out another hollow screech as the hand grabbed hold and pulled it back, and Negi turned around to face the other fighter just in time to see a tongue of red spread down the man's blade, distorting his image. The phantom arm disappeared and the red-hot blade surged outwards, and with a final, almost deafening cry, the tiny insect that had almost killed Nekane – and Negi, for that matter – evaporated into black mist.

Silence fell on the ruins of the old village.

The demons who had attacked, the monsters who had either killed or petrified every living person in the small settlement, bar two, had all been defeated – by two seemingly ordinary humans.

For a moment, Negi could only continue to stare at the black sludge that was once his assailant, his heart still hammering in his chest and his body still shaking with every move he made. That monster had been a heartbeat away from killing him – and even _closer_ to killing Nekane. In his young mind that had been a truly _terrifying_ moment – to see something lunging at you with the intent to kill while being utterly defenceless had shaken the little boy to his very soul, and undoubtedly that skeletal visage would haunt his thoughts for years to come.

A loud _clink_ near him made him yelp and stumble onto his side as his head whipped in the direction the sound came from. He was met by a rather blurry reflection of his face, and it took him a moment to notice he was staring at the man in red's sword, embedded into the ground. Another fearful whimper escaped him as he looked up. Much to his surprise, however, the man merely smiled and knelt on one knee.

"You okay kid?" He asked. "That thing didn't hurt you, did it?" Negi gulped when he heard the question, realizing his voice was slowly failing him. Blinking back tears, he shook his head and looked away. A strong gust chose that moment to snake its way through the ruined village, and Negi shivered as he hugged himself. He was clad in his nightwear, having rushed out when he heard the attack start, and his coat went missing… sometime during the fray. Another gust had him shivering, until a faint rustle caught his ears. Just as he considered looking up, he felt a strange warmth envelop him, and only then he noticed that he had suddenly been covered with the red coat his rescuer wore. With wide eyes, he turned to look up at the man, who was grinning as he rested a hand on Negi's shoulder. "Better, kiddo?" He asked. Negi blinked once, twice, feeling odd under the intensity of the silver-haired man's eyes, before shyly nodding, seemingly shrinking into the red leather surrounding him. "Don't worry," the man said with a smile. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Nothing's gonna hurt you now. That's a promise."

Suddenly blinking back tears became nigh-impossible, and Negi looked down as a sniffle escaped him. He was quickly becoming _really_ tired, and the warmth the man's coat offered didn't alleviate that. Snow crunched behind them, and as Negi looked up, a strange glow fell on the older man's face. The young boy looked to his side to see the other fighting standing there, arm aglow. He had the same icy blue eyes as the older man, Negi noticed, and as much as he tried not to, he found his eyes dropping down to gaze at the monstrous arm the man possessed. The younger man seemed discomforted by this, and quickly moved to hide the hideous appendage behind his back, and once again Negi found himself averting his gaze and fidgeting with the seams of the red coat as a small semblance of shame started tugging at his insides. "Is the kid alright?" The younger man asked, bare hints of relief in his voice.

"Yeah," the older man smiled again as he stood up. "He's good. Shaken up, but good. You find anyone else?" He asked as he turned to face his younger teammate.

Negi, however, recoiled slightly as those words made grim reality set in. His eyes went wide and a loud gasp drew the fighters' attention as he sped past the older man, the red leather coat dragging in the snow behind him. "Aw, shit…" He heard the younger one speak as he fell to his knees next to Nekane's unconscious form, and started to shake her lightly. He tried to speak, but his throat was raw from screaming and crying, and only a pathetic whimper came forth. He heard snow crunching under boots behind him and saw the two shadows falling over them, but he didn't care. Nekane wasn't waking up – and for some reason that tiny fact actually _hurt_… A small ache bloomed in his chest and it seemed to hurt more with every heartbeat. He shut his mouth and tried to keep face, but his lips were trembling badly and tears were already streaking down his face.

A blade suddenly embedded itself into the ground beside them, and when he looked up he noted with shock that the younger fighter had knelt as well, a sombre expression decorating his face. Tentatively, almost as though Nekane were fragile, the young man's normal arm extended and came to rest on the side of her neck – and then silence reigned for a few, brief, painful seconds. Negi didn't even dare to breathe – he waited, biting back sobs and furiously wiping away stray tears.

Then the young man smiled.

"She's alive," he said hurriedly, quickly shucking off his dark coat and tenderly lifting Nekane's prone form so he could cover her with it. "It's faint, but there's a pulse," he said excitedly as he lifted her up off the ground and stood as though the young woman in his arms weighed nothing. At that moment, Negi's composure left him, and he started sobbing loudly. Nekane was alive – the pain in his chest disappeared and exhaustion set in, and suddenly it felt as though the gloved hand that had come to rest on his shoulder was the only thing keeping her upright. The man in red had knelt next to him again, and there was a sincere smile on his face.

"Hear that, kiddo?" He said. "Your sister's alive. Everything's gonna be alright now."

"Dammit…" The younger of the two men frantically looked around. "Where the hell is Lady? She should've been here by n-" A loud explosion sounded in the distance, and the night sky took on a bright red hue as a large flare soared upwards in the distance, casting an eerie crimson glow on the remnants of the village. "Finally," the younger man said as he looked back. "I'll go on ahead, Dante."

"You do that, Kid," the man now identified as Dante nodded. "We'll catch up soon." The younger man nodded once before taking off in the direction of the flare, soon disappearing from sight amid ruined buildings and floating snowflakes. Dante quickly reached for his sword, effortlessly pulling it out of the snow and strapping it to his back with one arm, the other still steadying the trembling boy before him. He grinned slightly when he looked back at Negi. "Doesn't look like you're good to walk, huh," he said good-naturedly before reaching forward and picking Negi up. "No matter – you're light enough to carry there," he smiled. He made a few adjustments to Negi's posture in a bid to make the young boy a bit more comfortable, before striding off in the direction the younger man had run. "C'mon kiddo," he said with another smile. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

Negi, astounded and exhausted by the day's events, could only nod happily, smiling despite the tears streaming from his eyes.

* * *

"_**Focus, child,**_" the oddly warped voice boomed in Negi's mind, and with a soft sniff the young mage-in-training shook the fond memory from his head. His earliest memory, one filled with darkness, turned out to be the one he cherished most – the memory of the day he made two friends he wouldn't trade for the world. That circle of friends grew afterwards – from Dante and the younger man he now knew as Nero, to Lady, Trish, Enzo and a couple of other people. He smiled to himself. He even considered that brash, brutish, violent, beast of a voice – "_**I **_**heard**_** that, you little imp!**_" – in his mind and soul to be a friend – "_**I am **_**NOT**_**your 'friend'!**_" – of sorts.

Negi chuckled to himself as he stood before the training area set up in the basement. One of Dante's contacts graciously provided housing for his 'unique' friends for the duration of their stay in Wales. Of course, such housing would _need_ something like a basement shooting range, what with Dante and Nero's custom guns and Lady's absolutely _ridiculous_ collection of firearms of various shapes, sizes and potential for collateral damage. Negi smiled as he looked at the four mannequins in front of him. They had been gorged by _something_ in several places, ranging from non-lethal wounds to critical injuries, and all-in-all Negi was content with his skill so far. _I didn't do _too_ bad,_ he thought, _did I, Beo?_

"_**Hmph. Congratulations. You can now effectively kill Hell Prides and absolutely **_**nothing else,**" the voice in his mind growled. "_**You truly are an opponent to be feared – you **_**finally**_** strike a more intimidating presence than the harlot's sleepwear. Albeit a different kind of intimidation…**_" Negi, by now, had gotten used to his 'not-friend's antics and manners of speech, and he was sure he'd eventually be able to fish out a compliment _somewhere_ between that failure at sarcasm. "_**Failure?! Why you-**_" The outburst brought a grin to Negi's faces as he looked down at the elbow-length bluish-grey gauntlets that adorned his arms. The intricate carvings that normally channelled a white light were glowing brightly – apparently, the Lightbeast, Beowulf, was agitated.

Not that Negi cared in the slightest. Beowulf had been angry many times in the past, _especially_ when Negi had first established contact with the great demon's spirit. Now, however, Beowulf's threats were hollow – towards _him_ at least. _'In any case, I thank you for your most gracious compliments, Beo,'_ Negi thought as he continued to admire the intricate craftsmanship of the gauntlets. '_It's always nice to know I'm at least good enough to make a demon put some _effort _into insulting me,_' he grinned.

"_**Hmph. Less talk, more practice,**_" the Lightbeast responded gruffly. "_**I'm not seeing enough fatalities here - your aim is still as terrible as the chaste one's dress sense.**_"

'_Did it ever occur to you that, just _maybe_, I went for non-lethal attacks on purpose?'_ Negi smirked as he held up his right hand and made a fist. With a slight sizzling sound, four long stakes of searing light materialized in his grasp – one between each set of two fingers and the last pinned to the side of his hand by his thumb. These stakes rapidly changed, obtaining a jagged, feather-like appearance, and the four collectively lit up the basement as though every wall had several windows in them.

"_**That merely emphasizes your insolence,**_" Beowulf growled. "_**What good are non-lethal wounds against demons? What, do you expect them to accept defeat and yield like some 'gentleman'? Maybe break for teatime before trying to rip you to pieces again? Curse the fates for placing me in the care of such a phenomenally **_**moronic**_** wielder…**_" The Lightbeast groused.

Negi merely grinned. '_Love you too, Beo,'_ he thought happily as flung the bolts of light at the four mannequins. The stakes sheared through wood and iron as though it were cardboard, and much to Negi's own smugness, _all_ four were potentially crippling – especially that last one. Lady and Trish would pat him on the back for _that_ one.

"_**Child…**_" Beowulf's voice sounded tentative – either a _very_ good sign, or a very, _**very**_ bad one.

'_Yes, good sir?'_ Negi smiled to himself, closing his eyes and folding his hands behind his back.

"_**You targeted that last one's groin… **_**Intentionally.**" Now Beowulf sounded downright incredulous.

'_Why, yes I did,'_ Negi responded smugly.

"_**Hmph… There might be hope for you yet.**_"

'_Why thank you, Beo. I must say you're being unnaturally charming today. Does the proximity of Nevan's spirit have anything to do with –'_

"_**You speak **_**one more word**_** and I will **_**smite**_** you for implying I would humor myself with such **_**filth**_**.**_"

'_Of course, of course,_' Negi replied smugly as he clenched both his fists. Eight white-hot bolts of light soon manifested in his grasp, and he grinned confidently as he took sight of his targets. '_Now… Let's take the bar up a notch.'_ With a light-quick movement – almost literally, thanks to Beowulf – the bolts flew forward, four-by-four. Had the mannequins actually been sentient and in possession of organs, they'd find their hearts, lungs, spines, necks and brains thoroughly evaporated by the searing lights, and soon enough, the two middle mannequins fell over, exuding smoke from each faux-grievous wound.

Negi smiled to himself again, and made a slight 'hmph' of satisfaction. Had those been demons, they'd be nothing but piles of ash and/or black pus by now.

"_**The harlot comes,**_" Beowulf's voice warned, and despite himself, Negi found himself frowning at the use of the vulgar nickname. His distaste was soon interrupted, though, as light clapping echoed through the fairly lifeless basement. Startled, Negi turned around, smiling when he saw Lady strolling closer, a smile on her face and a few hints of pride in those mismatched eyes of her.

"If the rodent said anything degrading about that performance," Lady spoke with a wide smile, "I suggest you ignore it. You did wonderfully, Negi." She stopped as soon as she reached the table where Negi had all his various trinkets and toys laid out. "Even if they weren't moving, this is _really_ accurate, especially considering your height and arm leng-" She trailed off, inquisitively staring at the last mannequin. "Negi… Did you really attack that target's jewels?"

Negi grinned. "Well, yes. You and Trish are always telling me how effective those kinds of attacks are, so I figured I might was well start including them in my repertoire."

Lady laughed softly as she patted him on the shoulder. "Good shot. That'd put someone down for sure," she grinned. Negi blushed slightly under the veiled praise, but quickly shook it off and offered her a confident grin.

"It's good to know I'm improving," Negi said happily. "There's no telling what kind of assignment I'll be getting once I graduate, but it's sure to be a daunting task. The better equipped I am to deal with any hiccups, the happier I'll be," he smiled. "After all, I certainly don't want another experience like our little trip to Nepal," he said with a barely-suppressed shudder, and Lady laughed at his expression.

"Aw come on, you can't tell me you didn't find that at least a _little _bit exciting," She said with a grin. "True, the mission went to hell the moment we stepped into that old temple, but at least we had a little bit of fun, right?"

"It was 'fun' right up until that self-proclaimed 'Eater of Children' showed up," Negi huffed as he fiddled with the gauntlet covering his right arm. "Any 'fun' we might have had after that is overshadowed by the memory of me running for my bloody life from a mouth with a metric ton of bloodstained teeth inside it."

Lady, much to Negi's ire, merely giggled at the memory. "You had _such_ a ridiculous look on your face," she reminisced with a smile. "I think I still have a bruise or two where you latched onto my midsection after we saved you," she said with a taunting tone. "I also recall you kicking Dante on the shin. He actually felt that, you know."

"Serves him right, I say," Negi huffed as he crossed his arms. "There's a time and a place for being sarcastic and witty, and when I am being chased by a hellbeast that can swallow me by _inhaling_, it is certainly _not_ that time." He started to organize the various weapons and trinkets on the table before him, just a slight smile started tugging at his lips. "Although I _will_ confess that some of the things he said were rather funny. Cheesy, yes, almost unbearably so, but funny nonetheless."

"That's Dante for you," Lady nodded with a smile. "In any case, this little grad task of yours should be small fry," she said as she turned to face the shredded mannequins again. "After everything you've seen these past six years, I think you'll ace your test. Hey, you might even get lucky and go somewhere completely demon-free."

"I wish…" Negi smiled dryly, and the gauntlet on his left arm clinked as he raised his hand to his face, trailing a finger over the long, vertical scar that stretched down across his left eye, from his forehead down past his cheekbone. A brief flash of a memory caused the feeling of cold steel and white-hot pain to tickle his nerves again before quickly fading away. "With these I don't think that's really likely," he said softly, his other hand trailing two grotesque scars under the fabrics of his shirt.

Lady frowned slightly as her mismatched eyes focused on the scar spanning Negi's eye. "Do… Do they still hurt, when there are demons near?" She asked tentatively.

"This one, no," Negi smirked as he pressed his index finger against the scar left by the wound that nearly took his eye. "These, however," he said, placing his right hand over his chest. "They tingle slightly. It's like a pinprick every now and then, just to serve to remind me." He fell silent for a few moments, only to perk up and smile brightly again. "But at least now I know when the fiends are coming," he said with a toothy grin. "It gives me time to prepare accordingly."

"_**Check yourself, child,**_" Beowulf's voice echoed in his mind. "_**Bravado before the harlot will get you nowhere, and overconfidence will be your downfall – just as it was mine."**_

'_Duly noted, sir,'_ Negi thought with a smile. '_It's so nice to know my demon friend has my best interests at heart.'_ He cleared his throat before Beowulf's mind-shaking roar could offer a retort, and turned back to Lady. "If anything…" Negi said, his hand still on the covered scars on his chest, "That man did me a favour rather than an injustice."

"A favour?" Lady asked with a perplexed expression. "Negi, you nearly _died_. You were comatose for almost three months – how was that a favour?"

"What happened before that man arrived…" Negi said as he examined the mannequins he had destroyed minutes earlier. "I think dying might have been the better option," he said wistfully. "And before you try arguing!" Negi quickly interjected as Lady opened her mouth to protest. "Dante agrees. Dante, Nero, Nekane – they all agree. I might sound a tad too morbid for a young boy when I say this, but I'd pick being dead over being possessed any day." Then the smirk returned. "Besides, I'm still standing aren't I? You need more than three tiny little wounds to keep Negi Springfield down."

At first, Lady could only stare with a perplexed expression. Finally, though, she conceded and laughed airily as she shook her head. "You know, Nekane and I always had different opinions regarding your exposure to Dante and Nero. I always thought you'd pick up their bad habits. Nekane… Nekane wasn't worried though. She told me it'd be good for you to loosen up a bit." She smiled at Negi. "Now I can see she was right."

"Now now, don't go giving them all the credit," Negi said good-naturedly as he started to pack away the various trinkets and toys in front of him. Miniature crossbows with silver bolts, flash grenades, assorted throwing knives (which, admittedly, he could not use to save his life), several rune-inscribed jewels and even a small Walther PPK were laid out on the table. "Do you honestly think I'd be able to use half of these if it weren't for you and Trish?" He said with a smile. "At the very least you two can teach me more than swordplay and marksmanship." Finally, he finished packing up all his toys, and reached into his pocket, removing a small, somewhat mid-range cellular phone. "Oh drat," he said sourly. "The battery's dead." He turned to Lady. "Do you know what time it is, by any chance?"

Lady's eyebrows rose by a slight margin, a tell that Negi would normally associate with the phrase 'Oops…' on Lady's part. At the very least the gunmistress had the decency to try and seem bashful. "I can't believe it slipped my mind…" She admitted guiltily. "That's actually why I came down here. Dante, being the lazy ass that he is, tried to phone you from the living room. Twice. But… Your phone's dead. So… I came down here to tell you it was almost… time for your graduation."

Negi stiffened slightly. "How many minutes are we talking about when you say 'almost time'?" He asked warily. He'd been warned that he had to be there by 10 to get ready, so surely he had some time left. If all else failed he could-

"It's… It's 9:51."

Seconds lasted ages as the hollow ticks of the clock filled the deafening silence while Negi's mind processed Lady's words. Then, as though a dam wall broke under the pressure, a myriad of different reactions flew through Negi's body almost simultaneously. His eyes widened, his breath hitched, his face lost any semblance of colour it might have held and – "Oh, _bollo-"_ His hand slapped across his mouth just in time to prevent a most ungentlemanly word from sliding across his tongue. Doing his damned best to ignore Beowulf's raucous laughter in the back of his mind, the young magus-to-be grabbed his bag of equipment and hoisted it off the table with strength he could only muster during a crisis of apocalyptic proportions, and made a mad dash to the door, intent on pushing it open with one swift –

_**SLAM!**_

Spots of white filled the young graduate's eyes as he unceremoniously recoiled off the inward-opening door, his attempt to push it open halted by a sheet of firm oak and a locking mechanism far too expensive for a run-down basement. Slinging his toolbag over his shoulder, he yanked the door open with his left hand, nursing his aching face with his right as he ignored Lady's muffled laughter at his predicament and muttered high-English obscenities in a near-Shakespearean manner.

As the young mage-in-training stormed off, his suddenly thunderous footsteps interrupting repeated wails of "_I'm laaaaaaaaate~!"_, Lady gave herself a metaphorical slap on the wrist – not that it did much to ease her chuckling. Still, she supposed it _was_ her fault he was going to be late in the first place. Absentmindedly fumbling with the keys in her pocket, she wondered if she could get her bike to the front of the abandoned 'guest house' before Negi took to the roofs with Beowulf's help.

Smiling to herself one last time, she pulled the keychain from her pocket, the clinking of metal shattering the silence the young magus-to-be left when he started his marathon. Her bike it was, then. Beowulf's 'aid' was far too unnerving for her to be comfortable with – short range or not, a fraction of the speed of light was still mind-numbingly fast… Not to mention, _dangerous_.

Besides, she was a careful driver. A trip on her bike was much safer than traveling via Air Beowulf…

…Right?

* * *

The dulcet tones of Aerosmith's remarkably shrill vocalist served to create an eerie aura of calm in the lobby-turned-living-room of the abandoned 'guest house'. It was an aura that one would not normally associate with the two silver-haired demon hunters sitting contentedly on comfy chairs, listening to the old-school rock-'n-roll drifting from the near-defunct speaker of the near-defunct jukebox sitting in the corner and busying themselves with the most menial of tasks. Dante, leaning back in a leather recliner that had far too many cracks to be considered valuable, had his feet propped up on the desk, thumbing through an old copy of the now-discontinued 'Playmates from Wales' as he chomped down on another slice of dreary pizza. Nero, the less relaxed of the two, was sitting with his dark coat hanging in his hands, inspecting the dark-red storage rune Negi had worked onto its back as a storage option for the Red Queen.

"He's gonna be late," Nero grunted absentmindedly as his sword of choice materialized and stabbed into the floorboards with a loud thunk. "I thought Lady was gonna hurry him up?"

"Eh, most likely they got lost on Memory Lane," Dante responded with an apathetic shrug, turning to the next page in the magazine and smirking ever-so-slightly. "'Sides, you're worrying too much. Squirt's gonna be making a name for himself in the magus communities really soon. Didn't you see him fight off those Prides a week ago? He's all grown up."

"He's barely ten, Dante," Nero replied with a jaded expression.

"Like I said," Dante shrugged again. "All grown up." The exasperated expression Nero fixed him in return was promptly ignored as he turned back to his magazine. "Relax, kid," the elder demon hunter said with a grin. "We've got nothing to worry about."

"You said that in Nepal as well," Nero retorted with a cynical gaze. "Then that 'Eater of Children' showed up and-"

"And got its ass kicked," Dante cut the younger hunter off with an aloof smirk. "See? Nothing to worry about. Ol' Tall-Dark-and-Toothy died and we all walked out of there without a scratch. Negi even scored a few demon kills," he said as he closed the magazine and tossed it onto the desk. "He's been teaching himself non-stop for three years, kid," Dante said with a smile as close to sincerity as he could get. "We didn't force him to take up gun handling and combat practice – he _asked_ us for our help. He _wants_ to be capable of looking after himself. Have a little more faith, Nero," he said as he grabbed another slice of pizza.

Any retort Nero might have uttered was silenced by the loud footsteps suddenly slamming onto the wooden stairway in the adjacent room. "Told ya," Dante smirked. "Fifty bucks says he caves and hops on Lady's bike."

"No way," Nero rolled his eyes. "Last time he went for a ride with her he didn't stop shaking for a day. Make it a hundred and you're on," the younger demon hunter said with a cocky grin, flexing the fingers on his demonic arm.

"You're on," Dante grinned, just as the door to the lobby-turned-living-room flew open with a mighty gust of wind and the small mage-to-be rushed in looking, for all purposes, like a deer caught in the headlights. The young boy's face was pale as he darted from one corner of the room to the next, his wind-based magics amplifying his speed as he nimbly (for his age, at least) dodged and skidded around and over obstacles in his own path. "There you are, Squirt!" Dante said heartily. "Nekane and Anya left already. The little firecracker wanted to go down to the basement and drag you out, but seeing as I know how physical she can be I… 'persuaded' her not to."

Nero snorted when he heard _that_ line. There was no persuasion involved at all – Dante merely told Anya how much of a 'henpecked-housewife' act her little stunt would be and how it fits that 'secret side' of her, whatever that implication meant. Truthfully Nero was surprised Negi didn't hear the racket – Anya slipped into the most prolonged fit of angrish the young demon hunter had ever heard, all the while trying her best to punch Dante in the face. The key word was 'trying', though, and after more misses than Nero cared to count Anya screamed and stormed off, with Nekane sheepishly following after her when Dante (falsely) promised to make sure Negi was on time.

"Not that I don't appreciate the gesture," Negi said hurriedly. "But don't you think you could have persuaded her to be a little less violent instead of _dissuading_ her entirely?" Even though it didn't exactly sound like it, Negi was _very_ grateful. Dear Anya, bless her feisty soul, always did have a habit of getting rather physical when she was flustered or humiliated or _both_, and it always ended rather badly for his face, _especially_ considering he picked up that nasty 'not-shutting-up'-habit from Dante. But right now, considering the situation, some rough treatment was a way better alternative than being late to his first – and like _only_ – graduation. "What did you even say to her?" He asked exasperatedly as he quickly stuffed a bunch of mundane articles into a backpack.

"Oh, this and that," Dante shrugged as grabbed yet another slice of pizza. "The truth, mostly. Poor little firecracker still can't handle it, though," he said with mock disappointment. "Girl needs to realize denial will get her nowhere. Hey, maybe she should talk to Kyrie about that," he suggested with a snap of his fingers.

"Oh, har-har," Negi deadpanned as lifted several articles of nonsense out of his way in search of his wand. "As always, your humour serves to be the highlight of my day. Just _look_ at this wide smile on my face." He finally found his wand, and shoved it into one of his inner pockets. "I'd suggest you try your hand at the comedy industry but I'm afraid you might get impaled on your own sword again."

Much to the young mage-in-training's surprise – and ire – Dante merely laughed heartily at his retort. "That was pretty good, Squirt. But, although I've got a whole myriad of retorts ready, I can just say one thing to make you lose this little battle of wits." The smirk on his face was devious, and Negi fought hard to repress his urge to shudder.

"And what might that be, oh master of snark?" Negi asked with a dry tone, crossing his arms as he awaited the silver-haired demon hunter's response.

Dante's smirk broadened ever so slightly, and without changing his relaxed posture in the slightest, he jabbed his thumb at the clock hanging on the wall. "9:56," he said triumphantly, barking out a laugh when he saw the dumbstruck expression on Negi's face. In a gust of wind, a rustle of clothes and a broken cry of "You utter, _utter __**tool**__!_", the young soon-to-be magus spun on his heel and made a mad dash for the door, only to be stopped by a shrill whistle from Dante. Negi turned around, ire evident in his eyes, and Dante merely smirked again as he spun Negi's wizard hat on his index finger. "Don't go forgetting this, Squirt," he said jovially and flicked his hand forwards. The hat – a crinkled, purple monstrosity – spun through the air like a UFO before coming to rest squarely on Negi's head. The young boy huffed, ripped the hat off his head and muttered his thanks as he stormed out.

Nero let out a disappointed sigh. "Y'know, for a second there it actually looked like he had you," he said bitterly as he stood up and cracked his neck. "Guess I'll keep dreaming. What time do we need to be there?"

"Around 12," Dante responded absentmindedly as he started polishing his handguns. "Keep yourself busy, Kid. There's lots of time."

"Shouldn't we tail him?" Nero asked warily. "Negi's scars attract demons close by. Are you sure he's safe?"

Dante turned an amused gaze at Nero, just as the sound of a roaring motorcycle engine made the windows of the lobby-turned-living-room vibrate slightly. When the younger demon hunter finally turned his gaze back to the elder, Dante merely smirked.

"He'll be fine, kid. I'm sure of it."

* * *

_Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale, inha-_

_**That exercise is futile.**_

_Hush, you!_ Negi half-seethed at the demonic voice in the back of his head. He'd been overly preoccupied when he left the abandoned guest house Dante and co. were residing in, thinking about the quickest out-of-sight route he could take to the academy. Beowulf's powers, slightly brought back into the mortal plane through Negi's own practices in demonology, were strong enough to help him traverse short distances at a fraction of the speed of light, so the most _anyone_ would see was a blink of red appearing every few meters or so. Unfortunately, he'd been so preoccupied he hadn't noticed Lady perched on her steel beast of a rocket-cycle a few feet in front of him.

He would never, _ever_ admit that he had uttered the most feminine, most ungentlemanly shriek ever heard when the gunmistress revved the damned death-trap-on-wheels less than a foot from him.

"W-Was that really necessary?" Negi squeaked, doing his best to calm his now-erratic heart. Lady's bike wasn't known for being 'quiet'. "You nearly made my heart stop!"

Lady, however, merely chuckled and patted the backseat. "Come on. I'll give you a ride there. Who knows? We might even make it on time this way." She chuckled again when Negi regarded her warily. "Oh come on, I'm a great driver! You'll get there with two minutes to spare."

"It's a ten minute drive, Lady," Negi said, still wary. "We've got three minutes left."

"Okay, then you'll have _one_ minute to spare," Lady said as she rolled her eyes behind her dark shades. "We'll be on time, don't worry."

Negi regarded her carefully for another moment before his shoulders slumped and he let out a distressed sigh. "I give up," he said dryly as he hopped onto the back seat. "I'd rather face the punishment or penalty or whatever for being late, so please, _please_ show at least a _bit_ of consideration towards the laws of the road," he begged as Lady revved the beastly bike again. Its entire frame shook from the action, and despite not having a clear view of her face, he had a gut feeling that Lady was wearing an absolutely terrifying (from his perspective) grin on her face. He sighed again, dejectedly this time. "You're not going to listen to a word I said, are you?"

"Nope." Short, sweet and to the point. What a _wonderful_ retort.

The young magus-in-training resigned himself to his fate, making peace with the fact that, _yes_, Lady was going to complete a ten-minute drive in less than two. He removed his small shades from the bridge of his nose and secured them in one of his inner pockets, checked the straps on his backpack for good measure, and finally wrapped his tiny arms around Lady's midsection. Dante and Nero could give him hell regarding his integrity all they wanted later – Negi would rather face _that_ than flail about on a bike that laughed at any possible concept of a 'reasonable speed limit'.

_**Are you going to squeal like a pig in mid-slaughter again?**_ Beowulf asked gruffly in the back of his head. _**Because if you are I swear I will sever this connec-**_

The jet engine at the back of the bike roared to life as a torrent of fire turned the fence behind it into liquid steel, and tired screeched an unholy ode as the bike took off at such a speed Negi could _swear_ he felt all his intestines shift a few inches back. The world around them became a miasma of colours as their surroundings seemingly blended into one long tapestry of abstract art, and Negi very nearly lost control of his bladder when Lady decided to lift the bike's nose into the air.

And just like that, the morning peace that had settled over the small village in Wales was shattered by screeching rubber, a monstrous roar from a gigantic engine, and a high-pitched, distinctly feminine scream of unbridled terror.

Business as usual, the residents within earshot thought, ever since the young Springfield's 'friends' had come to town.

* * *

9:57.

Anya Cocolova was angry. No, scratch that, she was _seething_. The fact that Negi himself was late had very little to do with it – yes, she _was_ slightly miffed about it, but her friend being late was not enough of an infraction to make the tips of her twin-tailed hairdo catch fire because of her magic. It wasn't a heinous enough crime to make her grit her teeth to such an extent anyone near her would swear could hear an electric drill at work. No, that idiot Negi could never make her _that_ angry.

Her current anger, the current cause of all the red in her vision was that lazy upstart of a man who coincidentally wore the same colour he made her see _all the bloody time_. Time and time again, the Son of Sparda could be counted on to make her _so bloody mad_ that even her magics started failing her. The mere thought of it put such a look of murderous rage on her face her peers and fellow-graduates took a cautionary step back. Hmph. Cowards. So what if she was the most ill-tempered of the lot? She could control herself.

Most of the time, at least.

Most of the time Dante wasn't near, for sure.

And then she seethed again. How dare he?! "_Listen, Firecracker,"_ she remembered him say with such a proud and cocky smile on his face. "_He's blowing off steam, leave him. He's also nervous. I _know_ it's like your lifelong dream to be his own little henpecked housewife but-"_ And at that point her ears had promptly shut down as her face turned even redder than her hair. Everything after that was slightly blurry – she remembered chucking a fireball at him, which missed so spectacularly you'd think she wasn't about to graduate at all. She remembered trying slap him, and she remembered not being able to hit him _once_ despite the fact that he was stationary and _not moving_ and even had a magazine in one hand and –

A guttural growl escaped her throat, and a soft bubbling sound and steam before her eyes alerted her she was, much to her embarrassment, boiling the glass of water in her hands. Ducking her head low to hide the pink tinge on her cheeks, she set the glass down and stood up from her seat. It was obvious that Negi wasn't going to be on time. She turned to face the clock in the distance, and just as it ticked onto 9:59 –

_**SLAM!**_

The doors to the room opened and a seemingly drunk young boy staggered in, his hair matted and full of twigs and other fantastic collectibles and his clothing ruffled into a state of near-homeless untidiness. "Not late!" Negi Springfield slurred as took a step forward. "Not late at a-" And then he promptly misjudged the height of the small step before him and fell flat on his face, where he remained, unmoving.

Anya clicked her tongue. That utter, utter _idiot_, she thought as she rushed forwards. Was it Beowulf again? Good lord, she _told_ him not to use that stupid, _stupid_ hellbeast as a means of moving fast, but nooooooo, Mister Demonologist just _had_ to go and do his own thing. He was _late_ because he was doing his own thing, but would he learn from it? Absolutely not. She knew him by now.

Finally, she reached his side and kneeled down before rolling him onto his back. His eyes were slightly erratic for the first second or so, but they soon calmed down when he locked eyes with her. "Am I on time?" The young Springfield asked, slightly delirious. Anya sighed deeply, placing her palm against her face. Stupid, _stupid_ boy. "Yes, you're on time. You had a minute to spare."

"Oh fantastic," Negi said with a rather uncharacteristic giggle. "The terror was well worth it then."

"Terror?" Anya raised a brow at her younger friend. "I thought you and Beowulf were on good terms," she whispered to him as she slung his arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet. The fact that Negi had taken up demonology as a hobby was common knowledge in the academy. The fact that he had the spirit of one of the most feared demons of yesteryears, Beowulf the Lightbeast himself as a personal guardian spirit… _That_ part was still under wraps - and for good reason. Younger kids than Negi had been stoned for lesser interactions with demons in the past. Granted, that past was very, _very _distant, but Anya was still cautious – especially after the Lightbeast's spirit so gleefully informed her of what happened to kids who associated with demons during _his_ time.

"Wasn't Beo," Negi giggled again as he tried to steady himself. "Lady brought me."

Oh. Anya blinked – once, twice, thrice. _That_ explained a lot. While she was one of the more level-headed members of Dante's little posse (right after Kyrie and Trish, respectively), Lady's driving was absolutely terrifying. Even Nero outright refused to climb onto that rocket-cycle when Lady was driving, and with good reason. No wonder poor Negi was so shaken up. How Lady hadn't been fined six-digit numbers for collateral damage was one of Anya's greater questions in life.

Still, it would be a good ten to fifteen minutes before Negi's minor case of PTSD wore off, so she slowly guided him towards a chair. This incident served only to fuel her anger towards Dante's posse (Kyrie excluded – for some odd reason Anya could never remain angry at her), but this time, sadly, she had to shelve that rage. Dante was a near-unkillable bastard who had a chronic case of Not-Taking-Anything-Seriously, so he was a fair target for her rage.

Lady, though…

Anya's temper might be as volatile as gunpowder, but she wasn't stupid – far from it. She was years too young and cowardly to try and take on the gunmistress about her driving. Maybe someday… when Lady was old and one-foot-in-the-grave and wheelchair bound – and even then Anya would have to make sure there weren't shotguns under the armrests.

For now, though, she'd tend to Negi – whether it was two miles or two thousand, distance didn't matter. A trip on Lady's bike was the ultimate test of bravery, in her young mind. With that thought, and a slightly twitching eye, she muttered obscenities aimed at the Son of Sparda's group as she worked towards snapping Negi out of his stupor.

* * *

Excitement.

Despite him telling himself that graduating was 'an exaggerated brouhaha', Negi found the word 'excitement' was describing what he was feeling quite well, honestly. As he stood there, before the old magus making a grandiose speech about lessons learned, trials passed and challenges completed, Negi felt content. An entire audience was behind him, and he didn't need to turn around – he _felt_ Nekane's proud smile better than his eyes could ever relay the image to his mind. He took a quick glance to his side, where Anya, one of his oldest and most trusted friends, looked bored out of her mind, and he repressed a chuckle as he gingerly ran his tongue over the scorch mark on his lip. Dear Anya, bless her feisty soul, had tried to help him calm down after his catastrophic trip by giving him a glass of water, and even helping him drink it when his hands proved to be trembling too much to hold it properly.

Granted, he had only found out she had superheated the water out of anger towards Dante _after_ an unbearable pain shook him right out of his speed-induced stupor, but the gesture was greatly appreciated.

The graduates were being called up now, he noticed. Anya finally started to look lively, and the fire in her eyes that he had always held a deep respect for burned brighter than ever. It made him smile. He remembered, back when he was still young, mere days after the incident with the demons. He'd been staying at the Devil May Cry with Dante and Lady while Nekane recovered. He remembered how the door nearly flew off its hinges as Anya stormed in, followed shortly by a man who claimed to have known his father. He remembered the bone-crushing hug Anya had given him as she cried for him, for Nekane and everyone who had been lost in the village.

He also remembered the half-amused, half-confused expression on Dante's face when Anya wrapped her arms around _his_ midsection and repeatedly and tearfully thanked him for saving 'her only friend'. Nonetheless, Dante had ruffled her hair and told her it was 'all in a day's work'.

Negi chuckled to himself. The chances of _that_ particular scene ever repeating itself… Heh. There was a greater chance that Beowulf would finally forgive Sparda.

_**What 'greater chance'? There's **_**no**_** chance, child – there's not even a memory of a chance, not even a slight fiber in the strings of fate to **_**hold**_** the chance that I will ever forgive that traitor for –**_

'_For beating your silly arse senseless and locking you up in a prison furnace, yes, I know,'_ Negi cut the great demon off, mentally chuckling at the odd mix between an indignant squawk and a roar of fury at how bluntly the young magus had put it. '_I've heard the story before, you've told me a thousand times, you hate Sparda, you want to destroy everything he ever loved and ever stood for, blah, blah, blah. You're so cranky today.'_

_**I will **_**murder**_** you, boy…**_

'_See? There we go again, with the whole fire-and-brimstone shtick. Will it kill you to be _kind_ for one day in your life?'_ Negi retorted. It was oddly humorous that he was having an argument about outward attitudes with the spirit of a demon that terrorized the world many years ago _at his graduation ceremony_, but at this point in time Negi had seen and done weirder things during his frequent stays at Dante's place.

The memory of the first time he established contact with Nevan's spirit was one that would terrify, discomfort and humiliate him until his dying breath.

_**I am a demon – I have no need for kindness,**_ Beowulf responded gruffly. _**Nor do I value it in beings - I judge by strength, and by strength alone. Kindness is a weakness – a weakness I despise.**_

Negi rolled his eyes at Beowulf's declaration. Go figure that a once-feared great demon would have a strength complex. How clichéd – why was every demon all about '_strength this, strength that?'_ It was boring, in all honesty. Still… Just this once, he wouldn't stay his tongue. The opportunities to win an argument with a demon were rare. From what he had learned, the greater demons enjoy every type of challenge, be it physical, mental, verbal or spiritual. And those who managed to best them… Those were the men the demons respected.

'_Kindness is a weakness you despise, hmm…'_ Negi pondered. '_And strength is something you judge by… I had no strength when I first contacted you, Beo. I had nothing – I was a frail little boy fresh out of a coma. And yet, you spoke to me. You guided me. You trained me,'_ Negi thought with a smile. '_I established contact with your spirit out of kindness… Do you despise me for it, Beowulf?'_

Much to his growing satisfaction, Negi received no response.

"Anya Cocolova!"

Negi was snapped out of his little debate with Beowulf when the old magus before them called out Anya's name. With a confident smirk, she walked up to the stage, removing her wizards hat as the old magus congratulated her and handed her the envelope that would give her the task she had to perform to become a magister magi. She turned on her heel to look at the audience, and a wave of applause followed as it had with every graduate before her, and every graduate after. For just a moment, Negi could see a hint of pride in Anya's eyes as they fell upon someone in the crowd – but that pride, unfortunately, dissipated as Anya's smile fell and her eye twitched. Negi chuckled – there was only one reason she'd react that way, and he knew it all too well. Figures, that witty old bastard was doing something just to annoy her.

Soon enough, the stage had been vacated again, and the old magus stepped and spoke in a booming voice, "Negi Springfield!"

Negi grinned. _**Well, what are you waiting for?**_ Beowulf barked in the back of his head. _**Get up there! That old fossil's voice is more annoying than Echinda's!**_ Negi bit back a chuckle at Beowulf's antics as he climbed the steps up onto the stage. Soon enough, he found himself standing before the old magus, and he removed his hat and looked the older man in the eye. There was pride in those old wizened eyes and the warm smile on the wrinkled face spoke volumes.

"I will be honest, lad," the old magus spoke warmly. "When I heard you were taking up demonology I feared for the worst. I am happy you proved me wrong," he said with a chuckle as he handed Negi his envelope and diploma. "Well done, Negi Springfield. Go forth – your journey to become a Magister Magi begins right now."

Negi nodded confidently, took his papers and shook the old magus' hand, before turning on his heel, the same way Anya did. The applause followed, as he'd expected, but when his eyes fell on the middle rows of the audience, his face lit up and a wide smile broke out on his face. Nekane was there, beaming with bright eyes and a glowing smile as she clapped her hands, but she wasn't alone. On her right, Nero and Kyrie sat smiling at him. Nero's Devil Bringer was wrapped in its red cast, and he flashed Negi a thumbs up with his good hand. Kyrie, ever the smiling one, was clapping every bit as enthusiastically as Nekane was. To Nekane's right, Dante sat in the seat between Lady and Trish, both of whom were partaking in the applause. Dante himself wasn't clapping much, but he gave Negi a two-fingered salute and a hearty grin – as much audience participation as you'd ever get from him. Negi bit back another chuckle when he realized it was, ten to one, Dante who made Anya's face fall.

The few seconds he spent staring out at the audience lasted ages. It was a sight that quickly burned itself into his mind – this day would forever be one of Negi Springfield's most precious memories. With the smiling faces of his friends in mind, Negi turned and walked off the stage. The smiles of those close to him had given him more confidence than he could ever need.

Surely, whatever job his little psychic envelope would give him would be a complete _breeze_.

* * *

The courtyard outside the hall was buzzing as parents and loved ones met daughters and sons, and embraces and pats on shoulders and kisses on cheeks were dished out in abundance. Words of pride and love and jest were spoken freely as laughs and giggles drifted up into the open air, and the excitement felt from various parties across the courtyard was almost palpable.

"Fortune telling," Anya grinned at the note from her envelope. "In London of all places! This should be fun. The place seems interesting enough," she smiled as Negi put his arm around her shoulders. "I'll have to brush up on my divinations though – I wasn't exactly top of the class in that field."

"You're not alone there," Negi grinned. His studies in demonology had greatly interfered with his divinations – to such an extent that he had dropped the subject entirely. Seeing what manner of demons would lurk in a person's future was not a pleasant sight – Beowulf had told him it would tide over once he learned to look past it all, but the memory of the slaughter in his village was still fresh in his mind – a bit too fresh for his liking. "But you'll do fine. You always better than I was in many fields."

"Whoa, whoa, ease up on the gentleman act, Squirt," Dante chimed in with a grin. "You'll give her an ego boost, and that's a headache I don't need."

"Oh you're one to talk about egos," Anya huffed as she gave Dante her best death glare – which, obviously, hardly fazed him. "I've heard you talking to the clients at your store. My ego's small compared to yours."

"_Everything_ about you is small compared to me, Firefly," Dante retorted, earning an indignant squawk from Anya and a few muffled chuckles from everyone around the fiery young magus – Negi and Nekane included.

"Now, now," Nekane said with a smile as she knelt down before Anya. "All jokes aside, we're all really proud of you both. I'm sure you'll have a blast in London, Anya." The warmth of the young woman's smile quickly served to snuff any anger that might have risen out of Anya, and the fiery young magus merely smiled and nodded.

"She's right," Trish's velvety voice commented. "Don't pay Dante any mind, he's just miffed he's not like you. You've got a world of opportunity ahead of you – fortune telling in London is just the first step. Dante, though… With him its either demon hunting or poverty."

"He's already in poverty," Lady commented from Dante's other side. "His debts are nothing to laugh at. Especially what he owes me."

"Just can't win with you two, can I?" Dante sighed. "Why do I even keep you guys around?"

"Before the old man can start complaining about women again," Nero hastily cut in, "What does your little magic paper say, Kid?" He asked, looking towards Negi. "You've been studying demons for quite a while and that old fart on the stage knew it, so you think your job might be tied to that?"

"Heavens forbid," Negi replied with mock-mortification as he tore off the seal on his envelope. "Can you imagine someone as young as I am going around doing exorcisms, banishments, undoing summonings and purifying hotspots? I'd be grey or completely bald before I turn 20," he said. "I'm hoping it's something that can broaden my horizons. Take Anya's fortune telling, for example. She's going to meet a lot of new people and learn lots of new things. So I'm hoping for something of that calibre," he said enthusiastically as he unfolded the paper in his hands.

Then he started reading it – and then he audibly gulped.

It was as though every word drained another ounce of colour from the young magus' face. There it stood, black on pinkish-red, a verdict that seemed more like a punishment than a task to the young boy: '_Teacher in Japan.'_ He sighed dejectedly as he summarized his situation with a few choice words he absolutely _could not_ prevent:

"Oh, bugger me."

* * *

_**Several Days Later:**_

It was nearing the big day for the two young magi. Only a week remained for them to get their affairs in order before they had to depart for their destinations. The merry crew of the Devil May Cry had decided to stick around a few more days, both out of support for Negi and Anya and out of necessity, due to the fact that demons around this part of the world were, much to their surprise, much livelier than back home.

It was because of these demons that there were only two souls present in the 'abandoned' guest house Dante and co. were living in at the time. Everyone else was out busying themselves with their own deeds – Lady was flying solo on a few hunting missions, Trish was… well, Trish was somewhere around town, Nero and Kyrie were out spending the day together and Negi and Nekane had gone to get him geared up for his job – teachers were expected to look professional and stylish, so the shortcake needed a few suits and fancy trinkets.

This left Dante, the (somewhat) famed Son of Sparda home alone with what he hatefully referred to as a 'babysitting gig', with the baby in question being none other than the source of some of his most constant headaches over the past six-or-so years. Anya Cocolova was sitting on a couch in the lobby-turned-living-room, keeping her smouldering death-glare trained on the silver haired demon hunter, who, much to her chagrin, was promptly ignoring her. Her glares didn't do much to bother the elder demon hunter that much – he'd seen better glares from most of the demons he hunted anyways. Still, there was an absolutely _enormous_ opportunity for him to taunt her _and_ get to the bottom of her angst-rage in one fell swoop. So, setting down the magazine he was busying himself with, he cupped his hands behind his head and reclined, turning his ice-blue eyes to the young fire magus.

"You know," he drawled as he looked at her. "If you keep glaring like that you'll get wrinkles prematurely." A pause. "And then you'll never impress Negi." A loud _phwoop _was heard in the rather spacious room as a large red pillow impacted squarely with Dante's face, and the elder demon hunter could swear he heard the little bomb huff softly. "C'mon Firecracker," he grinned as he pulled the pillow from his face and tossed it aside. "You've been aiming hate at me for the past five days or so. Now, it doesn't mean much, coming from a little kid, but I'll bite: What's bugging you?"

She glared at him again. "You're immature," she huffed.

Dante raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, coming from a little bomb who just threw a pillow at my face for no reason, that's a bit weird," he said, smirking at shade of red that appeared on her face. "Besides, haven't we done this like a thousand times before? You call me immature, I ignore you, you attack me, you humiliate yourself, you run off. Should I start with that whole 'ignore you' step or are you actually going to speak more than two words to me?"

"How can you act so carefree?" Anya asked suddenly, a look of disbelief on her face. "Negi's going to a strange land full of strange people and strange demons and you're just sitting here like it's the most normal thing in the world!"

"Uhm, newsflash, Firecracker," Dante spoke up. "A ten-year old girl going solo to London to do fortune telling isn't exactly normal either. Do you want me to start worrying about you too?"

"I'll be fine," Anya retorted through gritted teeth.

"And Negi won't?"

"Negi has those scars!" Anya exploded suddenly, rage dominating her face. "He's been hunted for the past _three years_ because of scars he got because _you all messed up!_" The anger on her face remained for all of a second before realization dawned on her. She sighed shakily and ashamedly turned her face away from Dante, her small hands clenching into fists and gripping the fabric of her skirt. "I… I'm sorry… I shouldn't have…" She grit her teeth as she did her best not to meet Dante's gaze.

"Hm… I was wondering when you'd drop that bomb," Dante's amused voice echoed across the bleak room, and Anya's shocked gaze shot to him, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "In a way you're right. The scars are our fault. None of us thought 'that man', as you call him, would show up. Poor planning on our part, I'll admit. But Negi made do with the hand he was dealt – he's been training himself for _three years_ to fight off the demons who hunt him. He moved on. He doesn't blame any of us even though he should – so why do _you_?"

Anya flinched slightly, averting her gaze. Her fists still scrunched up the fabric of her skirt, and the young girl was visibly fighting her own emotions. "…I'm scared," she admitted after a few moments of silence. "I know I shouldn't be angry with you guys… I know how hard you fought to help him… But when you brought him back, and I saw the wounds…" She faltered a bit. "I could see bones when you carried him past me. That's all I saw. I saw red, and bones, and I could hear you all freaking out and…" She paused for a moment. "He didn't wake up," she said softly. "He wasn't waking up and… it scared me." She paused again, seemingly thinking over her words.

Dante, for one, was caught slightly unawares by this sudden shift in the little Firecracker's mood. True, she was _very_ attached to the Squirt even if she didn't admit it aloud, but ever since their village was destroyed all those years back Anya had been particularly clingy to Negi and Nekane, and Kyrie, on the off chance one of the former two weren't around.

"My… My mother…" Anya continued. "She… She wasn't one of the statues brought back from the village." Ah. That explained it. Dante's face took on a grim expression. So Anya's mother was one of the slaughter victims… "Negi and Nekane… They're all I have…" Anya said softly. "And when Negi didn't wake up… I was so scared…" She sniffed loudly. Dante shook his head – this girl was fighting her emotions way harder than any ten-year-old should. "And it got even worse when he _did_ wake up… Because these… these _things_ in cloaks and armour and monsters I can't describe started showing up… And they wanted t-to hurt him… And I…"

At this point, Dante decided he'd heard enough. With one quick, quiet movement he got up and strolled over to Anya's trembling form and kneeled before her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Oi," he called to her, and she hesitantly looked up, revealing wet eyes and a slightly trembling lip. "You… don't need to say anymore. I know it's hard for you – _especially_ for you."

"…He's m-my only friend…" Anya's voice was cracking more with every word she spoke.

"I know, Firefly," Dante nodded. "I know." He paused for a moment as he looked at the now-vulnerable fire magus before him. "Honestly… I still think the Squirt can hold his own – especially seeing as he's going to the Old Beanhead's place. But…" He trailed off. "If it'll make you feel any better, I'll pull a few strings," he finally said, "and see if I can't get him some help on his little trip."

Anya's eyes widened, allowing a single tear to slip out and streak down her cheek. "…Y-You… You mean that? You really will?" The amount of hope in her voice was so foreign it was practically uncharacteristic of her.

Dante shrugged. "Yeah, why not," he conceded. "After all, he's our friend too, and as you said we're also responsib_ugh!_" Dante rocked back slightly as the little bomb that had been sitting on the sofa before him suddenly bolted forwards and latched her arms around his neck. "What the – Wha – What are you… Oh jeez," he sighed as he felt Anya's tiny frame begin to shake as she hugged him. "Seriously?"

"…Th-thank you…" Her muffled voice reached his ears as she cried into his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, th-"

"Yeah, I get it, I get it," Dante said as her grip around his neck tightened. "You're thankful and all, I get the concept." Okay. Maybe he was wrong in thinking she was weaker than a Pride. This was _definitely_ not sub-Pride strength, not at all. Still, it didn't seem as though she was going to relent any time soon. She seemed more than content at the moment to cry her eyes out… Bah. Who was he to interrupt that? Slowly, with a slightly resigned sigh, he placed a free hand on her back and applied the most miniscule amount of pressure necessary to 'return' a hug like this. She seemed to relax marginally, but her grip was still as firm as an iron clamp.

Damn the luck. The _one_ time he decided not to be the witty, sarcastic, devilishly handsome badass he was, and it turns out like _this_. He'd seen this nonsense on TV a few times, though, and normally those women don't cry that long – and they were all adults. So, he'd weather this storm. After all, if it was as bad as the little Firecracker said, she'd been keeping all of this bottled up for almost _three years_. That was some serious emotional baggage right there – more than Trish or Lady ever had, that's for sure.

So, despite not entirely _wanting_ to do it, Dante resigned himself to his fate and did his best comfort the crying Firefly in his own awkward way. She'd be done soon, no doubt. After all, a ten-year-old girl couldn't possibly cry _that_ long…

…Could she?

* * *

_**ONE HOUR LATER:**_

With a content sigh, Lady strolled up the path leading to the abandoned guest house's front door. It had a been a good haul, all-in-all – sure, the Vanguard that popped out of nowhere gave her some hell and she sported a fancy new cut on her right bicep, but the payoff was worth it. Lady always said that the UK Pound was a nice currency to get paid in, and boy was she right. The cut from the vanguard seemed a small price to pay in comparison.

With a slight smirk and the intention to taunt Dante with hints about her job and payoff, Lady opened the door leading to the lobby-turned-living-room… and paused. Slowly, she reached a hand up and removed her shades, an exquisitely trimmed dark eyebrow rising at the sight before her. "I'll be damned…" She said, before a mortified expression crossed her face. "Oh God, please don't tell me I'm dreaming…" _That_ would mean her whole payoff wasn't real, and that would be… _frustrating_.

"You're not dreaming," Dante deadpanned from his spot on the floor, kneeling with an unconscious Anya latched around his neck. "I hope I am, though," he said in a voice slightly louder than a whisper. "That'd mean all this awkward shit never happened." He looked at the mop of red hair currently resting on his shoulder. "A little help here please? I've been sitting like this for an hour."

"So she finally snapped, huh…" Lady shook her head as she strode over to where Dante was kneeling, propping the Kalina Ann up against the wall and undoing the belt of holsters and pouches dangling from her hips. "Was Trish right?"

"Yup," Dante nodded. "She blames us. Thinks she shouldn't, though. No doubt that only made the stuff in her head worse."

"Poor kid," Lady sighed as she deftly pried the sleeping Firecracker off Dante's neck. "She's been crying," the gunmistress noted. "Nothing you did, I hope?" She paused. "Oh, who am I kidding? It's always something you've done."

"Nuh-uh! No way, not this time!" Dante shook his head and raised his hands defensively. "I'm innocent this time, I swear on what little money I have left. She asked me to get Negi some supervision for his trip to Japan and I agreed to try and grease a few palms to make it happen."

"Oh that's nice of you," Lady nodded as she cradled Anya's small frame in her arms. "Probably a good thing, though. I would've made you do it anyway, I'll admit-"

"Wait, _what_?!"

"-But still, it's nice to know you're not as aloof as you try to make yourself out to be. I'm sure she'll be a lot more at ease now," Lady smiled. "Sometimes you make me really mad, Dante," she sighed. "But then sometimes things like this happen, and I remember why I stick around," she said with another sincere smile. "I'll take her to her room. You get to work on making that bodyguard happen."

"Yeah, sure thing, I'll – Hey, wait a minute!" Dante objected. "I didn't say jack about a bodyguard! I said I'll get him some supervision, not a damn babysitter."

"Just get to it, Dante," Lady silenced him with a smirk before turning around and ascending the staircase leading to Anya's room.

"Pffft. Women," Dante muttered as he flopped down onto the sofa. So the little Firecracker finally went off, and hopefully now her fuse was shot and replacing it would take a while. That was good. Now Dante had a problem: He had absolutely nobody to call who could 'supervise' Negi during his stay in Japan. Sure, he could ask Enzo to organize someone, but Enzo's contacts were normally even shadier than the demons themselves, and he most certainly was _not_ going to entrust a boy who was basically a walking beacon for demons to some shady gangster who thinks his tattoos and missing finger make him a Yakuza higher up. So that option was off the table. He couldn't go himself, because he needed to keep the Devil May Cry up and running back home. So he reclined into the sofa, thinking of what he could do to not fuck up his somewhat-maybe-differently-worded-but-still-promise to the little Firecracker. At least, he thought up until his eyes fell on a familiar dark coat with a red rune on its back hanging on the coat rack.

In that one moment, the Son of Sparda, who was notorious for planning as little as possible, actually came up with a good idea. Dante grinned as the gears in his head started turning.

Maybe it was time for him to give that Old Beanhead at Mahora a call… Then, he had a trip or two to make.

* * *

It was late at night when Nero and Kyrie finally returned to their current residence. Kyrie herself was glowing, her smile piercing through any semblance of darkness the late hour brought, and the happiness in her eyes was visible even from a city block away. She was walking with her hand firmly grasping the crook of Nero's right arm, a showing that despite its unnatural appearance, the Devil Bringer did nothing to sway her opinion of her lover.

This demeanour was the one thing that made everything worthwhile to Nero. The pain-in-the-ass planning and bookings, the traffic to and from the destination, it meant nothing to him now – Kyrie was happy, and by extension, he was happy too. He chuckled to himself. "Never thought I'd actually enjoy being in one of those places," Nero said with a smile as he thought back to the lavish restaurant he'd taken Kyrie to. At first the lavish interior and the stuck-up waiters and the absolutely miniscule amounts of food seemed a bit like a bad choice… But in the end, it wasn't.

"It was amazing," Kyrie conceded as she rested her head against his arm. "A real surprise – I never saw this coming, but… I'm glad, in a way. It just made it that much more special," she hummed as they approached the door.

Nero was quick to grab the handle and push the door open, quickly stepping aside to allow Kyrie entry. She smiled at the gesture, a tint of pink appearing on her cheeks, and she giggled as she stepped through the door. Nero smiled to himself – those 'Gentleman Tips' Negi had given him were a _real_ help during the date. Maybe it was time for him to stop taunting the young magus about his whole 'English Gentleman' shtick…

Nah. Who was he kidding? Those taunts were staying.

As soon as the last traces of Kyrie's (absolutely jaw-dropping) white dress disappeared through the doorway, Nero stepped over the threshold and pulled the door closed behind him, locking it for good measure. He turned back around, a smile on his face, just as Kyrie's arms snaked their way around his neck, pulling his head down. Her soft lips pressed against his own and he smiled as he returned the kiss, leaning into the embrace as their eyes fluttered closed, a perfect end to a perfect night. As their lips parted, he saw her smiling at him. "Thank you," she whispered. "It was a wonderful night."

"You've got that right," Nero grinned in a slightly goofy manner, and for once it was his turn to have a tint of pink on his cheeks. "Listen, I need to go check in with Dante real quick. I'll be upstairs as soon as I'm done."

"Okay," she said dreamily as she took as step back, smiling at him. "I'll wait for you," she said with a giggle as she moved to the staircase and started climbing, her white dress and semi-transparent shawl trailing behind her and – Wait, was that a sway in her hips? Nero shook his head, grinning despite himself. Dante better not keep him occupied all night. He quickly started his trek to the back of the building, where Dante had set up an impromptu 'office' – the quicker he got this business done, the better. As he walked through dusty hallways and opened creaky doors, his eyes trailed down to the golden band around his left ring finger. Circumstance declare his other arm unfit for any kind of ring, so his left hand had to do… but it didn't worry him. The ring symbolized enough – regardless of which hand it rested on.

Finally, he reached the large double doors that lead into Dante's makeshift office. If he were quick he could get this business done even sooner than he thought- no doubt Dante had a job for him. He'd been taking extra work to fund the marriage he and Kyrie had been planning, so if the job sounded reasonable to him he'd just accept and get out. No disrespect towards Dante – he turned out to a pretty swell guy, if a bit dickish at times, but it was late and he was in an absolutely pristine mood, and he wanted to keep it that way. So with a deep breath, he reached out, pushed the double doors open and…

"_**Look, brother! Master has a guest!"**_

"_**So I see!... Who is he? He looks familiar…"**_

Oh, God no. Not them. _Anyone_ but them. Resisting the urge to press his palm against his face, Nero did his to tune out anything coming from the two demonic scimitars embedded into Dante's desk. Loyal they may be, but for fuck's sake, they even managed to test _Negi's_ patience, and the little kid had the patience of a saint. Dante, who was whistling a jaunty tune while reassembling Ebony, looked up and smirked. "Evening, Kid!" He said jovially. "Did you enjoy your date? You didn't punch another waiter did you?"

Despite himself, Nero smirked at the memory. "Oh come on, old man. That was _one_ time. It hasn't happened again, has it?"

"It should have," Dante quipped. "That guy was a real ass."

"Would you rather be the pot or the kettle?" Nero asked with a bored tone, though some of the good mood that had evaporated with Agni and Rudra's presence returned. "Anyway, I'm about to go turn in for the night. I'm just checking in to hear if you've got anything for me? Because I plan on sleeping in."

"Ah, but is that really 'I', or is it 'we'?" Dante asked with a wry grin, and Nero felt his face heat up despite his attempts to prevent it. "Ahah, busted," Dante chuckled before clearing his throat. "Anyhow, I've got something for you. I think you might like it. Long term, nice locale, and best of all, it's a double-check job."

"Double-check?" Nero frowned slightly. "The hell does that mean?"

"Two checks, same payment agreed by the employer and the employee," Dante said, holding up two fingers as though Nero were a toddler. "One goes right to the shop, to help keep it running, and the other… That one goes right into your bank account," he finished with a grin. "Weren't you two planning a wedding? If so, this is perfect, isn't it?"

Okay, now _that_ sounded appealing, Nero would admit. "Okay… Wow. That kind of payment actually exists?" He asked.

"Nope," Dante said quickly. "I'm thinking this is something the employer just pulled out of his ass on the spot. Rich people, y'know. The kind of guys with so much money they can use it as toilet paper."

"Huh. I hate those guys…" Nero deadpanned as he sat down in the chair in front of the desk. "So what are the details?"

"Well," Dante started, picking up a notepad where a bunch of words were scribbled. "Your new employer wants to you to link up with a 'special group of skilled combatants' in order to 'combat a demon insurgence' and 'protect the-' Ah, to hell with it. Basically you're gonna be hired muscle to kill demons and protect innocents. The employer said something about shifts and being part of set teams and a whole of other B.S that I didn't really care about because I'm not going," Dante said boredly. "He's willing to go over it all again when you're there, though."

"Well that's great," Nero said with a shrug. The job sounded ideal, in all honesty – yes, he'd most likely have to work abroad seeing as Dante mentioned a 'locale', but the payoff seemed too good to pass up. "Where's this job at, and when do I need to be there?" He had to book a flight if it were anywhere overseas.

"I was hoping you'd ask," Dante grinned as he opened one of the drawers in his desk, pulling out an envelope and a small book. The grin never left his face as he slid the parcel over the table towards Nero, who caught it cautiously with his now-exposed demonic arm. "I already booked your ticket – you're leaving in a week, so you've got time to spare. The instruction manual's a mandatory read though, so I suggest you get cracking."

Nero smirked as he picked up the envelope. Lo and behold, it bore the seal of the local Welsh airline, and as Dante said, it was scheduled for exactly one week later. "You still haven't told me where this job is," Nero said as he slipped the ticket back into the envelope. "I might need to get some basics down if it's in a place where I don't understand the lang…uage…" He trailed off as his eyes fell on the small hardcover book in front of him, titled '_Japanese for Dummies – Audiobooks Included'_. "You're kidding me…" Despite the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, Nero couldn't prevent the smile breaking out on his face.

Dante grinned and shrugged. "Yup. Congrats Kid – you just won yourself a three month stay in Japan," he said. "More specifically: Mahora Academy. Look after Negi for us while you're there, would you?" He asked with a grin.

* * *

**Post-Chapter A/N: Phew. Longest prologue ever. But I just couldn't find an earlier spot to cut it off, so I decided 'to hell with it' and posted it all in one go.**

**Now, there are a few things that might not make sense, but I implore to take note that some things happened differently in this story. The demon attack on Negi's village, for example, happened a few days earlier than in canon, and because of that, the Thousand Master was notably absent. The demons themselves were also a lot more vicious this time around, hence Anya's now dead-instead-of-petrified mother, which I'm hoping to use to further her development somewhat in this story.**

**ALSO: The story regarding 'that man' and Negi's demon-attracting scars, as well as his ability to communicate with the spirits of Dante's various Devil Arms will all be explained in far greater detail in the future chapters. I left them vague now for a reason - so until then: Any guesses as to who "That Man" is and _why_ Negi's scars attract demons? I can neither confirm nor deny theories but its always nice to hear reader theories.**

**So! Negi and Nero are going to Mahora, as a teacher and a hired demon hunter, respectively. What adventures will they get themselves into? You'll have to wait and see - I'm planning on shaking up quite a bit of the events leading up to and following the 'major' canon events - including which girl(s) is/are met first and how this New!Sarcastic!Witty!Negi deals with the rambunctious Class 2-A! So stay tuned - this is gonna be big!**

**Until next chapter though, you have my sincerest thanks for taking the time to read this. I pray it impressed you, and I hope enjoyed it. Ciao!**


End file.
